


Hope, Resurrected

by reve_silencieux



Series: Senseless [2]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Disability, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 05:02:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3162233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reve_silencieux/pseuds/reve_silencieux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal's adapted to his life of silence, but four years later, he gets a little hope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope, Resurrected

**Author's Note:**

> This is a timestamp to [Silver Linings](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3151760), a sequel I wrote to Qwertyfaced's [Fool's Gold](http://qwertyfaced.livejournal.com/3695.html), a fic in her _Senseless_ series. It's been sitting on my computer for a year, waiting for me to come up with a title. Thanks to theatregirl7299 for coming up with it since I was drawing a blank.

_4 years later_

He watched the bird with a strange fascination. Too many times to count, Sara had complained about the small red bird that woke her up early in the morning. Neal had shrugged and smiled, telling her to get earplugs. It was a small, trivial thing, but he wanted to hear _that_ bird. He wanted to grouse and roll over, and conspire with Sara about how to get rid of it.

And now it was in his reach. It both scared and excited him.

He fingered the patch of skin behind his ear where he'd had surgery a month ago. 

Cochlear implants had been a long and arduous decision to make, especially when presented with the risks involved. He probably would have jumped right at it after the accident, but it hadn't been a choice—the government wouldn't pay for it. When costs ranged from $30,000 to $60,000 per implant, it hadn't been an option for him, not until he married Sara just under a year ago. 

Even after he was on her insurance plan, they'd had to jump through hoops. There had been tests for everything from his speech to his hearing (yes, he really was deaf!) and even a visit to a psychologist. They had fought hard with the insurance company to get invisible implants for both ears. The newest device was completely implanted behind his ear with no need for any external parts and he would be able to hear 24 hours a day.

Which meant waking up to the red bird.

His surgery had been scheduled for early in the morning. He joked with Sara that she could wake up the bird this time.

She hadn't laughed—and he didn't blame her.

It wasn't every day that you had major elective surgery that involved drilling into your skull. He'd woken up afterwards, still fuzzy from the anesthesia, with his head tightly bandaged, and Sara sitting by his side. It reminded him of that fateful day five years ago—waking up disoriented and confused, with people moving around him in silence. This time, he'd been too groggy to lipread, and he'd stared at her befuddled when she tried to sign to him. In the end, she'd just held his hand as he nodded off and waited for the anesthesia to wear off.

He went home later that day, dizzy and his balance off once again, as he walked with Peter's help to the car. Peter and Elizabeth had been there with Sara, waiting while he underwent nearly six hours of surgery. 

There was still a wait before they turned it on. Four weeks, to be exact.

A cold nose nudged at his hand and he looked down, finding Rembrandt at his feet. 

"Hey, Remy. Today's the big day." He said out loud as he knelt down and rubbed the dog behind his ears. "But don't worry, you're not going anywhere."

Rembrandt turned his head away and looked towards the other side of the living room. Neal followed his lead and saw Sara standing there.

_"It's time to go,"_ she signed.

Neal nodded, and they shared a smile before he stood up, brushing off his slacks. He walked across the room, Rembrandt by his side, as he had been for over three years now, and realized that when he came home, everything would change. 

Sure, he hoped to hear people talk around him, but he _wanted_ to hear everything else. The oven timer and the doorbell, Rembrandt's nails on the wood floors, or Sara's high heels when she came home.

It was the little things.

Not only that, but life in general. For years, everyone had worked so hard to accommodate _him_. He might have been the one at a disadvantage, but they'd had to find ways to communicate with him. They'd transcribed and learned to sign… and so much more. 

There was no way to really repay them, but now he'd be able to take care of himself. He was pretty self-sufficient, but the truth of the matter—one he couldn't deny—was that he _did_ need their help. Before Remy, Peter had been the one to keep him from walking into a car, or, to this day, make sure angry New Yorkers didn't get upset because he couldn’t hear them.

Sara was the one to take care of all things business related in their marriage, be it phone calls to the bank or to the electric company when the power went out. And that was only the start, because living with a deaf man meant a lot of adjustments, not to mention patience.

His life was not his own, in so many ways. Everyone else had a part in it. It had taken him a while to accept that. But like he'd learned to rely on backup on the job (who would have thought he'd _want_ the FBI to have his back) he'd soon realized that it was okay to ask for help, especially from those close to him.

Today was for all of them. Not just him, or Sara, or Peter, but every single one of them who'd been there for him, and did everything they could to make life more normal.

A tap on his shoulder brought him back to the present. Sara looked at him curiously. Their relationship had changed, too. They'd had to start over, open themselves up to each other. There could be no more secrets. His whole life had been laid bare for her, showing her exactly what his life now entailed. She accepted it with a smile and grim determination. He could not have asked for more, knowing how easily his disability could strain their relationship.

But now they were well attuned to each other, and closer than ever before. A small gesture here, a facial tick there, and each knew what the other was thinking. Words weren't always necessary. It made for quite a sensuous sex life. But he'd give it all up just to hear her voice in his ear.

Today he finally would. 

While it was hard to meet new people, having never heard their voices, it was harder to not remember the voices of those close to him, especially Sara. They were like a faded memory, a forgotten melody from an old record that he tried to play in his head. 

He thought he remembered her laugh. A laugh so infectious that years ago he'd wanted to do anything to keep hearing it, and had forgotten all about running away in those moments. But any more than that... he wasn't sure if he could trust his memory. 

Now his memories consisted of her smile, the look in her eyes when she was happy or sad, and always, the feel of her hand in his.

"I love you," he said looking her in the eye. "I know it shouldn't matter... but I miss the sound of your voice. Whether it's that little groan of yours when you're frustrated or when you're so pissed off you could make a grown man cry." Sara laughed and glanced away, embarrassed. Neal touched her cheek and she looked back at him. "And that too. Your laugh... sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who gets to see that side of you." 

He smiled softly and leaned in, curling his fingers through her hair. Their lips touched ever so faintly as he rested his forehead against hers and breathed in slowly. He was amazed sometimes at how lucky he was to have her. Despite everything, they had made it this far together, and come out stronger.

When they'd danced at their wedding, he could only sway to the music he remembered in his head. He promised her that if he ever got the chance, they would do it all over again. The wedding had been beautiful—Elizabeth had made sure of that—yet he couldn't help but feel sad that he couldn't dance the night away, or sing softly in her ear. He'd stood by while she danced with Peter, Jones, Hughes, and even Mozzie. He had watched as she laughed while they twirled her around the dance floor.

But now it was his turn. 

Now he would hear the music, and sweep her off her feet, or fall into bed with her voice in his ear, calling out his name. The soft sounds of her panting and moaning as she melted in his embrace.

And so much more. So much that he had missed out on. He wasn't angry, perhaps a little melancholy, but that was life. He'd spent four years in prison and missed out on a lot more than just music and dancing. But he'd learned not to dwell on what-if's years ago.

Neal held out his hand to Sara and smiled. He had his entire life ahead of him and he was looking forward to it.

*~*~*~*

Neal gripped Sara's hand tight, and she gave him an encouraging smile. He nodded at the audiologist who then pressed a few keys. Suddenly, there was a beep in his left ear. He jerked to the side in surprise.

Five years.

It had been five years since he'd heard anything.

He felt Sara's hand run down his arm and he looked up at her, tears threatening to spill.

_"Are you okay?"_

Neal nodded and smiled, finding her hand again and squeezed. "I'm good," he replied, his voice feeling hoarse. He swallowed and nodded once more to continue.

And one by one, the audiologist sent signals through each tiny electrode implanted in his ears. With each beep, Neal's heart started beating faster, and he impatiently waited for the moment to turn all of it on.. After all the programming was done, there was silence once again, and Neal took a deep breath.

He closed his eyes and nodded.

All at once sound bombarded him from his left, then shortly after, his right. At first it was just noise, but then he heard the audiologist's voice, not clear, but audible.

"Neal?"

This time he heard Sara and the tears that he'd been holding at bay flowed like a burst dam, and he opened his eyes to see her watching him, concerned. His shoulders shook as he cried, and he leaned over to hug her.

"I can't believe it...I...I love you...thank you...I just...I love you so much."

His own voice was unrecognizable, but it didn't matter. Sitting back, he swiped at his eyes, trying to clear them of the tears that would not stop.

Sara's eyes were red too, and she gave him a wide, shaky smile.

"Where's my Raphael?"

Neal let out a laugh and shook his head. "I'll tell you anything you want."

*~*~*~*

Hours later, they pulled up at the Burkes' house. Sara turned off the engine and looked at him. He'd been staring out the window watching everything go by him in childlike wonder. With each new sound he heard his eyes would light up as he mentally puzzled it out, comparing it to what he remembered, and cataloguing it in his head.

Everything was new. It wasn't all pretty, but he was slowly picking things out. Sara's voice still sounded a little high pitched and his sounded robotic, but he didn't care. It would take time, he knew that. Eventually his brain would adjust and people would sound like they should. Although it would never be perfect, it was better than the silence.

For a split second Sara started to sign, but she caught herself. Taking her hands in his, he smiled at her. This would also take some time for both of them to get used to. When they'd started dating again, Sara had quickly made the decision to start learning sign language. It had actually surprised him. Oh sure, she was the type to take the bull by the horns, but he hadn't expected her to want to learn right away. Not until she was sure their relationship was actually going to last this time.

Secretly, he'd been thrilled.

Once she was fluent enough, she insisted on signing so he wouldn't have to lipread. By that point, they practically lived with each other, spending most nights together. And she'd seen how tired he was after a day of lipreading. He'd quietly accepted. It marked a turning point in their relationship.

"Ready?"

He grinned. "I always love a good party."

She laughed and shook her head. They both stepped out of the car and walked up to the front door. Elizabeth greeted them and hugged Neal. She stepped back and looked at him anxiously.

"Everything go okay?"

Neal nodded "It went fine. I can hear things, not too clearly, but it's already better than it was a few hours ago. You sound a little like a chipmunk. I told Sara she's 'Brittany', so you can be 'Jeanette.'"

Sara rolled her eyes. "I already told him that it's sad that he even knows the names of the female Chipmunks."

Elizabeth laughed. "Well, I don't mind. It's cute." She stepped back and waved them in. "Well, come on, everyone's waiting."

They moved into the house and Neal found the living room decorated with balloons, and all his friends standing around, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Balloons, really? I sure hope they aren't filled with helium. Sara and Elizabeth already sound like chipmunks; I don't need a roomful of you."

Everyone laughed and relaxed, and he grinned.

Peter separated from the group and moved towards Neal.

"Neal."

He smiled. "Peter."

They leaned in and hugged. "Congratulations, Neal."

"Thanks. I don't suppose this means I could have my old job back?" Ever since his sentence had ended, Neal had been a part time consultant for the FBI—only when a case needed his help. He consulted more for Sterling Bosch, and even helped Sara with recovery. But he missed working with Peter.

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Even if it means sitting in the van all night?"

Neal grinned. "Deviled ham and all."

"It can be arranged." 

Jones stepped forward and clapped Neal on the shoulder. "We've missed you. Welcome back."

"Neal, darling."

He turned when he heard June's voice, and the simple fact that he could do that made him grin. Although, if he was to be honest, there had been a smile on his face the whole afternoon.

"June." He leaned down and hugged her, feeling a rush of love when he heard her soft voice in his ear. It had been too long. 

"I'm so happy for you."

"Thank you, June." He stepped back and held out a hand. "I believe I owe you a dance."

June waved a hand in the air, unconcerned. "You owe me nothing, dear. But I'll take it all the same."

And so he danced with June, Elizabeth, Diana and Sara as the night wore on. There were jokes and laughter as he compared Mozzie to Theodore, and Diana threatened to break his arm if he called her Eleanor one more time. Jones recounted funny stories of Peter in the van that he had missed out on and made Neal promise to bring air freshener to drive away the smell of stale deviled ham. 

It was later in the evening when June got up to sing that it finally hit him. He had it all—the friends, the family, the life he'd always wanted. Mozzie might still complain that he'd turned to the dark side, but he was happy. 

This was his final score.

**Author's Note:**

> Currently, cochlear implants still consist of an external transmitter affixed to the skull behind the ear. However, MIT has developed a new chip that could lead to a device that needs no external hardware. Since this is the future, and well, _fic_ , I decided to use that since I don’t want Neal to have [this](http://www.earsurgery.org/wp-content/uploads/cochlear-implant-image.jpeg) on his head. Even though Neal would probably still appreciate it if there was no alternative, we all know he wouldn’t like the look of it!


End file.
